Safe and Sound
by PenguinTimes
Summary: After a car crash that left him with brain damage, Gerald Broflovski became an angry and violent man- especially towards his young son Kyle. Who can save him from the abuse?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Heeeey sooooo I felt like starting a new Fic. The boys are a little bit older in this (maybe 12 or so) but I'm not very good at working out dates and times and stuff so it may be a bit flaky.  
Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Crouching under his desk, Ike Broflovski pressed his hands against his ears as hard as he could, trying to block out as much of the noise possible. Tears streamed down his pale face in little rivets, and he shook with fear and tried to ignore the gnawing feeling of guilt building in his tummy.  
Every crack, every cry, reminded him that it was all his fault. His big brother was being beaten because of him. Ky, the boy that had picked him up and dusted him off when Ike fell from his tricycle, who threatened to beat up a kid who was bullying him, who had shared his ice cream when he dropped his. Kyle was the best brother in the world, and Ike was the worst.  
Balling his hands into fists, he silently vowed that this would be the last time Kyle took a fall for him. But deep down, he knew that this was one promise he would struggle to keep.

Fiery pain erupted down his back once more as he stoically tried to make his way up the stairs, his deep shuddery breaths, red eyes and flushed face giving away the fact that he had just been crying.  
Despite the pain, Kyle didn't regret taking the fall for his little brother. Aged only five, Ike had never taken a proper beating before, and his brother wasn't sure of how well he could handle it- or how well he himself would handle it for that matter, knowing what he was going through.  
The door to his brother's bedroom opened a crack, and a pair of eyes just red as his own peered out.

"Kyle?" The red-headed boy tried to put on his most convincing smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Hey, Ike. You okay?" The younger of the two shook his head.

"I, I'm so sorry Kyle, I-" Ike found himself wrapped up in a tight embrace, but his hands hovered awkwardly in the air, not wanting to hurt Kyle's back any more than it already was.

"I'd do anything for you Ike. You know that. Anyway, I'm your big brother, it's my job!" Ike sniffed.

"No, your job is to tease me about girls in my class and mess around with me, not… Not this." He looked up at Kyle. "Do you think dad will ever get back to normal?"

They both stood in thought for a minute. It had been two years since Gerald Broflovski had been in the car crash that had left him with brain damage and changed their lives forever.  
Since the accident, the boys' usually calm father could become angry and violent at the tiniest thing. This time, it was because Ike had accidentally left the milk out.  
He shuddered as he recalled the familiar tone of anger and threat in Gerald's voice as he called for them both to come downstairs at once.  
His older son had stepped forward at once, and ashamedly, Ike hadn't stopped him- not even when Kyle was told to fetch their dad's heaviest and scariest belt. Not even when he was ordered to remove his shirt and pants and stand with his hands against the wall.  
Not even when the lashes began, slow at first but building up both in speed and intensity as Gerald punished his son despite the cries and the pleas to stop.

"I don't know, Ike." Kyle's reply brought Ike back to the present. "There's always hope I guess."

Both boys slept badly that night. Kyle got a look at the welts criss-crossing his back and thighs as he dressed for bed, shuddering slightly. The hardest part was always trying to hide the amount of pain he was in- the 'I must have pulled a muscle' excuse was getting a bit old now.  
Just as he was slipping into his loosest t-shirt, Sheila tapped gently on the door, and just a glance at her told Kyle that she had been crying.  
No one would expect this of the headstrong woman, so often seen as the most outspoken individual in South Park, but she was no longer the woman that organised rallies and protests. She was now the woman that tried to calm down her erratic husband, tried to stop him from beating her baby, tried, tried, _tried_.

"Kyle? Bubbala I saw the belt on the couch and I- oh, Kyle_, _I'm sorry. I should never have gone to work and left you alone with _him_."

"Ma, it's okay." He insisted, hugging his mother tight. "You _have_ to go to work; it's not your fault." Sheila pulled her son onto her lap, holding him close the way she did when he was little.

"Oh bubba, you're such a brave boy. I wish he hit me instead. In fact I just wish we didn't have to stay here any longer." Kyle nodded. Although still young, he understood.  
Even though his father had very little control over his anger when it came to disciplining his sons, he was still one of the best lawyers in South Park, and so leaving him was always going to be very difficult. Somehow, someway, Gerald would find a way to bring them back.  
Sheila scooped up her boy, slight as he was, and helped him into bed, tucking the covers protectively around him and kissing him on the forehead.

"Night ma."

"Goodnight bubbala. I love you." And then Kyle was once again all alone in the dark, bruised and battered and a little bit daunted by the thought of school in the morning.

* * *

Kyle looked down at his feet, cheeks pink with embarrassment, as Mr Marlot folded his arms in front of him.

"Kyle this is the third time you've forgotten your gym bag this week. It's just not good enough."

"I'm sorry, everything's just a bit hectic right now." His teacher sighed.

"You know, using that excuse once or twice is just about acceptable, but I'm not having you sit out again. You can borrow a kit from lost property." Kyle gulped nervously. He was afraid to get changed in front of his friends as well as the pain that gym class would cause him.

"Yes, Mr Marlot." He said, not wanting to make things worse by his teacher sending a note home. He picked out the loosest t-shirt he could find and some pants and shoes to match, and made his way to the corner of the changing room next to Stan, who happened to be arguing with Cartman over who had the biggest muscles.

"Fat doesn't count you moron." He insisted. "Right Ky?" He turned towards his best friend, only to see the boy blinking back absent-mindedly.

"Huh?" Cartman rolled his eyes as he filed out with the rest of the class, leaving Stan and Kyle by themselves.

"What's wrong with you dude?" The darker haired boy asked. "You've been totally distant all week. Usually you'd be ripping out fatass' throat by now." Kyle shrugged.

"Nothing Stan, I guess I'm just tired. I'll meet you out there." Stan narrowed his eyes. They always waited for each other to get changed for gym. His eyes suddenly widened as the realisation dawned on him. "

It was your dad again wasnt it?"

'No, I-' he was cut off as his friend reached forward to push him around and lifted up his shirt. Stan let out a low whistle, and Kyle pulled away, face reddening again.

"Ky those look awful dude. You can't- I mean, how can you-"

"Stan please don't say anything. You promised, remember?"

A year or so beforehand, the boys had been wrestling when Stan had dropped Kyle, who let out a cry of pain. The darker haired boy had pinned his best friend to the ground in order to get a look at the dark rainbow of bruising decorating the boy's back. Kyle had made him promise not to tell anyone, terrified of what his father would do if he found out.

"I know Ky but-"

"And you're my super best friend so you can't break the promise, right?" Stan sighed.

"Right, I guess. But you're sleeping over mine tonight okay?" Kyle thought about it a minute, weighing up the pros and cons on his mind.

"Yeah, okay." Pulling on the borrowed shirt, he tried to smile back at his friend as the two of them made their way to the gym to join the others.

* * *

"Ice, Kyle?" Stan called out from the kitchen. Kyle hesitated for a moment before calling back.

"Yeah, thanks." The idea of Stan taking care of him seemed completely alien despite the fact that they'd been in this situation a few times before- usually Kyle was fairly self-sufficient. The dark haired boy appeared at the doorway, grasping an ice pack wrapped in a towel, and flopped down next to his friend.

"C'mere, Ky." He helped the redhead to lie on his side facing away from Stan, and lifted up his shirt at the back to place the ice against the worst of his marks. Kyle gasped, gripping a cushion in his tight fists, and a tear -hurriedly wiped away- slipped down his cheek. Stan rolled him over onto his stomach so he could adjust the ice pack, pulling the boy further onto his lap as he did so.

"S-Stan?"

"Relax, I won't hurt you." Kyle unclenched his muscles, sinking down into his friend's grasp and trying not to think about what other people would say if they saw the two of them like this. Stan ran a hand through Kyle's hair, and held him tight.

He couldn't stop his best friend being hurt without breaking a promise. But he could be there to pick up the pieces once it was over.

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**A/N: The words kinda flowed at first but I struggled towards the end D: If you've got this far, firstly thanks for sticking with me. But it'd mean an awful lot to me if you'd leave a review, because I'm not sure that I'm gonna continue this story if no one actually wants to read it- I'm quite busy!  
Anyway, thanks again.**


	2. Chapter 2

**N/A: Last time we found out that Kyle gets hurt by daddy Broflovski. Naaawh poor baby :c I swear everyone in this fandom is so mean to our little redhead xD Anywaaaays, we left him and Stan having cutie time.  
If you have a moment please do leave me a review or something- it does mean the world to me (:  
Anyways, thanks to all who've read Chapter 1, and thanks in advance for reading Chapter 2 (:**

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It was almost midnight, and the boys were tucked up in bed together. Stan watched Kyle's chest move up and down steadily, listening to the comforting sound of him breathing and smiled at the way his nose was slightly crinkled up.

"Nngh…" Stan looked up at his groggy friend's face.

"Hey, Ky?" He put an arm around the redhead's shoulders and pulled him closer, resting his own forehead against Kyle's. The boy opened his eyes and crinkled his nose

"Stan… Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."

"No dude, it's okay. How you feeling?"

"A bit sore… But better, thank you." Stan smiled.

"Good. Go back to sleep Ky." Kyle closed his eyes obediently, and his friend brushed a hand through his curly hair. He couldn't explain the feelings coursing through his bloodstream- he so wanted to protect this boy, so wanted to hold onto him forever.  
Stan leaned in, and kissed Kyle on the forehead. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

A few weeks passed, and Kyle's bruises had faded. He and Ike were especially careful around their father, who seemed to be finding any excuse to yell at them of recent.  
He sat by the window in his bedroom, staring out at the sun shyly peeking out from behind the fluffy white clouds.  
Ike was on a field trip for the whole week, his mom was at work and his dad was out somewhere- he had the house to himself.  
As if by magic, the phone rang. It was Stan, wondering if Kyle wanted to go shoot some hoops with him.  
The redhead put his head on one side as he thought about Stan- his friend had been ultra-protective of him recently, even checking Kyle's arms for bruising when he thought he wasn't looking.  
'_I guess he doesn't trust me to tell him like I promised.' _Kyle thought to himself, as he pulled on his green ushanka and slipped his orange coat over his shoulders. He couldn't help but notice how loosely it seemed to be fitting nowadays- it must be all the nervous energy that was causing him to lose weight.

"Hey dude," Stan tossed him the ball and Kyle caught it with ease. "Your ball." The redhead grinned at his best friend. Despite everything that had happened recently, he was glad to have someone who treated him like Kyle and not like some delicate glass statue like a lot of people would do.  
More than anything else, Kyle yearned for normality, and he was happy to take anything he was given.

* * *

A couple of hours later, the redhead started the short journey home. He'd had a great, thoroughly carefree time, but even so as his house came into view his stomach started to sink more step by step. He wished he could stay outside in the sunshine with his super best friend forever, rather than having to return to his broken home.  
He tried to think back to the last time that his family had laughed together, had eaten together, had even been in the same room together without the tension being so think that you could cut it.  
There was a time when he had perhaps had the best home life out of all four of his friends- Kenny's parents were neglectful, Cartman's mom was a whore, Stan's dad was more than a little bit crazy.  
But now, he wondered, would the position fall to him? Not even having a porn star for a mother could trump having the shit beaten out of you by your brain damaged dad.

He let himself in, kicked off his sneakers, and pulled his books out of his schoolbag to get started on his homework. Somehow, it never mattered how much he studied as far as Gerald was concerned, never mattered how many A+'s he got on his report card. In his addled brain, Kyle was still a disappointment who somehow always needed to be disciplined for one thing or another.  
Despite this, he knew that good grades made his mom proud, and that meant a lot to him nowadays.  
He could never please his father, but seeing his mother's face light up when he brought home another Honor Roll certificate made up for that somewhat.  
He set out his books on the dining room table, and began to work, brow furrowing as he concentrated intently on his studying.

An hour or so later, he heard the front door open and slam shut.

"Kyle?" He heard Gerald call out. "Where are you son?" His voice sounded thick and slurred- something Kyle had come to recognise of his father being drunk. His heart thudded in his chest as he thought of how dangerous it could be if he did the wrong thing. Should he hide or would that make things worse? With a shuddery sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. He started to make his way to the hallway, but halted in his tracks at the sound of an almighty **crash** in the other room.

"Oh God" Kyle whispered to himself, green eyes widening and fists clenching. Had he remembered to move his book bag, his sneakers? He heard a groan and stood rigidly, too afraid to move even a muscle as Gerald sloped towards him, expression caught between anger and slight confusion.

"C'mere," He leaned against the doorframe, and beckoned at Kyle. "I want a little word with you." The 12-year-old shook his head nervously, and backed off slowly as if his father were a wild animal. Face contorted with rage, Gerald lunged for Kyle, smacking his son's face against the wall but falling as he did so. The redhead jumped away, and ran to the front door as fast as he could. His cheek was throbbing where he'd hit it, and his heart was thumping so fast it felt almost like a whir in his chest.  
Not daring to look back, he sprinted across the driveway and down the sidewalk, hoping against hope that his dad wouldn't try to follow him.  
He knew the route off by heart- and could probably do it with his eyes closed- but today Stan's house seemed to be miles away, on a faraway planet that Kyle would have to run for years to reach.  
Of course, that wasn't true, and Kyle was soon standing on Stan's porch, panting hard. He hammered his fist on the door, looking around wildly for any sign that his father might have followed him.

"Ky?" Stan's voice was laced with concern as he opened the door to his friend.

"Stan, I…" Kyle flung his arms round the boy, sobbing into his shoulder. Stan rubbed his back, pulling him inside and closing the door as he did so.

"Hey, it's okay… Ssh…" He sat the redhead down on the sofa, kneeling in front of him, and waiting until Kyle calmed down enough to tell him what had happened.

"Well…" Kyle began, sniffing.

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**A/N: Shorter chapter and I know that's not a great place to leave it, but I wasn't doing very well writing at the end of the chapter! Sorry if the last few paragraphs aren't great :/ Even so, reviews mean the world to me and if you could leave me one it'd mean so much (:  
Thanks for reading!**


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